


care of you

by treescape



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Qui-Gon Jinn Lives, master/padawan relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-20
Updated: 2020-06-20
Packaged: 2021-03-03 22:41:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24823264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/treescape/pseuds/treescape
Summary: Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon take care of each other in the days after Naboo.
Relationships: Qui-Gon Jinn/Obi-Wan Kenobi
Comments: 17
Kudos: 91





	care of you

**Author's Note:**

> This is just a quick “3 times Obi-Wan took care of Qui-Gon after Naboo, and 1 time Qui-Gon took care of Obi-Wan” fic because I really needed to write something fluffy.
> 
> Also because recently [Chibiobiwan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chibiobiwan/pseuds/Chibiobiwan) said “I need a sick Qui-Gon getting his hair washed by Obi-Wan stat >.<.” He’s not sick, but he’s plenty injured. Close enough, right?

**I.**

“Close your eyes.”

Obi-Wan’s voice coalesced with the water around them, and Qui-Gon delivered his assent on a sigh. It was about all he could manage; steam thick on the air and the warmth of Obi-Wan’s chest at his back were enough to make him feel drowsy. It was the type of lethargy that typically came with the absensce of pain.

The pain was still there, he knew; it was only diluted for now. But with one of Obi-Wan’s arms wrapped gently across his chest, anchoring him in the present, Qui-Gon let himself enjoy the reprieve.

Obi-Wan shifted a little, and water spilled down over Qui-Gon’s head. The weight of wet hair was a luxury he felt he could drown in. He’d lost count of the days since he was allowed to return to his quarters, the worst of his wounds knit together but body still weak and strained; too many hours of sleep, even broken by dreams and discomfort, made the time blur like colours submerged.

All he knew was that it had been a long time since he truly felt clean.

“Will you be okay if I move my arm?”

Qui-Gon followed the words back to their source, some little ways above his reclining body. He thought about it for a moment. Obi-Wan’s legs were tight enough around his waist that he didn’t think he’d slip, but he managed to lift one hand to brace against the side of the bathtub for good measure. When Qui-Gon nodded, Obi-Wan slowly withdrew his arm, and then both of his hands were massaging into Qui-Gon’s scalp with the sound of lathering shampoo.

If Obi-Wan’s fingers kept moving long past what practicality required, Qui-Gon wasn’t about to tell him. Obi-Wan already knew.

Sometimes touch was the best healer.

**II.**

“You didn’t over water them, did you?” Qui-Gon asked with a suspicious look. Obi-Wan might have been insulted if he hadn’t know that Qui-Gon was only irritable because he was healing more slowly than they’d both hoped.

And, of course, because Obi-Wan had been known to accidentally kill a plant or ten over the years. It wasn’t his fault that he had the opposite of a green thumb, or that he hadn’t listened any of the times Qui-Gon had tried to lecture him as a child.

Obi-Wan adopted a look of confusion, drawing his brows together and chewing nervously at his lip. “You can over water them?”

He only relented when Qui-Gon looked like he was about to get out of bed to check for himself. That would have rather defeated the point of Obi-Wan’s hours of meticulous research.

Who could have known there was so much to gardening?

(He didn’t dare ask his Master; the answer would be “you, if you had listened.”)

**III.**

Obi-Wan had taken to checking his temperature frequently, cool fingers pressing against Qui-Gon’s forehead. The Healers seemed worried about fever; something about his wound had perturbed them, even if they couldn’t justify keeping him chained to the Halls of Healing.

Qui-Gon couldn’t say he really minded, even if he did make obligatory noises about being just fine. It wasn’t like he was about to ask Obi-Wan to stop touching him.

“Still no fever,” Obi-Wan said, propped up on one elbow beside Qui-Gon in their bed. He smoothed his fingers up into Qui-Gon's hair, and Qui-Gon thought—non-hyperbolically, at least in the this moment—that he would never complain about anything again.

The mattress shifted, and then Obi-Wan was curling carefully into his side, braid coiling against the pillow as he lowered himself down. That would be cut soon enough; Obi-Wan would be Knighted once Qui-Gon was well enough to attend the ceremony.

Qui-Gon looked forward to it and dreaded it all at once.

“But don’t worry,” Obi-Wan said cheerfully. “I still think you’re hot.”

**IV.**

Obi-Wan came half awake to the feel of something warm as it settled against his back and shoulders. A blanket, he realized. The soft weight almost lulled him back to sleep.

“Qui-Gon?” He didn’t quite manage to form the syllables of his Master's name; they came out half-muddled, a tangle of vowels and consonants in the dark. He had the distinct sense that he should be doing something, or perhaps that he should be somewhere. Lights flared in his memory, and it was important…it was important that he move.

“Shhhhh.” The voice was primordial, somehow. It wove through his past, his present, his future. “Rest, Obi-Wan.”

Somewhere in the back of his mind, he noted that Qui-Gon sounded steadier than he had in days.

Obi-Wan fell back into the fullness of sleep to the feel of one hand curling gently around his waist and the stir of air at his temple.

**Author's Note:**

> I’m [treescape](https://treescape.tumblr.com/) on tumblr, where I take prompts but mostly forget to blog at all.


End file.
